Save me from downing
by Minkey222
Summary: Four times Steve drank and one time he didn't. Funny, Angsty and Fluffy all in one. {Drunk!Steve} {Pre-serum Steve} {Post-serum Steve} {stucky} Some language
**Ahah I'm in too deep and I couldn't stop thinking. I _really_ wanted to write drunk Steve, though. So here you go.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **IDONTOWNCAPTAINAMERICA**

Steve knew he wasn't that well off, living during the great depression doesn't do much for one's bank account after all. But that didn't stop Bucky when he decided to come home one night with a brown paper bag and the cheapest swill he could muster from the streets; plus a shit-eating grin that Steve couldn't get out his head 'til this day. They had been living together for maybe the better part of a year- since his mother had died, but he'd known Bucky for much, much longer. Not once in all of the years he had lived had Steve been drunk, sure he had seen Bucky drink plenty and he, himself, had had drunk the occasional drink, but never enough to actually feel the effects of it. He was always too sick or too poor to consider it. But now with Bucky's loud, and slightly slurred, announcement of,

"Let's have some fun!" Steve found himself forgetting his restraints. Laughing, he took the bottle from Bucky and gulped down a mouthful of the stuff. It tasted God-awful and burned like Hell, but it was a good feeling and soon he found himself take another swig and another, until collectively both he and Bucky had drained the bottle of what he had sworn had been floor cleaner. He chuckled to himself and Bucky took notice and laughed as well and soon it had them both giggling like the dames that Bucky brought home on his arm occasionally, rolling around on the floor and tears dribbling down their face.

"I love you, Bucky, I *hic* really do," Steve said drunkenly and through thick laughter. Bucky laughed as well.

"Love you too, pal." Bucky placed his hands on Steve's shoulders and he froze. He realised and not for the first time, he actually loved Bucky. Not like a friend, but like a dame would. The thought would usually have him searching for a fight but in his state he didn't even feel disturbed, no, he smiled brightly at Bucky and simply said,

"No, Bucky, I really love ya'. Like really, really." He slurred his way through the admission and to his surprise, Bucky didn't move his hand.

"Yeah, Steve, I know." the agreement came and even more to his surprise, Bucky leant down to kiss him. Steve was shocked.

"Oh. Okay" Steve pressed another kiss to his lips.

It didn't stop at kissing that night.

When Steve woke up, his head pounded and his heart raced, his lungs struggled to take in slow breaths and Steve felt like he was going to die. Groaning, Steve stood up, ignoring the fact that the room tilted when he did and walked from the bedroom into the kitchen where Bucky sat at the table. Bucky smiled at him brightly and Steve's heart constricted tightly at knowing that he could never have him. His head spun once more and he held his hand to it to ground himself.

"Bucky, what happened last night?" He ground out as he sat down and Bucky's face changed from the look of someone who had just won the lottery to someone who found out the ticket had expired. Bucky frowned at him and Steve's stomach churned.

To Bucky's dismay, he never did remember what had happened that night but he was sure to show him what he had missed. Steve made new memories this time.

* * *

Bucky was dead. His Bucky, was dead because he couldn't do what he was told. He just had to try to join the army and instead he got to be part of something so much bigger, the serum changed him, physically he means. He likes to imagine that he is the same old Steve from Brooklyn who had shit lungs, weighed under 100lb and was shorter than most dames he met, just bigger and more muscular. Bucky showed him that he was the same underneath it all; with memories of soft kisses and fiery finger-trails and touches that could have even the strongest man whimpering- and now Bucky was gone, and Steve was left without his touches.

Steve's hand tighten around the bottle he was drinking from, he hadn't even bothered with a glass this time. He took another swig from it, it burned on the way down. He laughed bitterly, he could afford nice drinks now, it wasn't like the floor-cleaner back in Brooklyn, but he didn't have anyone to share it with anymore. The drink didn't even do anything, the serum made sure of that, he metabolised too quickly and burned it off too fast to even allow the drink to numb his thoughts and block out the pain. He drunk the remains of the bottle and moved to place it with the rest but then his thoughts got the better of him and he threw it again the wall, shattering the glass and he swears he dented the already ruined wall. His anger dissolved and he cried for the friend he had lost and the love he would never find again.

Steve resolved to never drink again.

* * *

He woke up out of the ice after God knows how long and was thrust into the arms of the 21st Century; a Century of which he had no knowledge of. Nevertheless, he stayed resistant, ever the patriotic symbol of hope and true American values. Proving his worth and the worth of the United States of America as a whole through fighting the good fight. So much so that after they had been sent home, after the first official Avengers meeting, fighting against Loki and the like, and Steve had returned to his little apartment the past caught up with him. The tears choking him and his nails raking over his skin. The memories were burning a hole in his head and so to rectify this- because really Steve would do anything to get rid of the eyes of the dead and long lost people from his mind, resolve be damned- Steve picked up his coat from where he had haphazardly thrown it onto the couch and walked briskly to the nearest bar he could find. Upon arrival, he gruffly asked for the strongest thing they could offer and all but threw the money on the table. He got the drink and chugged it down, savouring the burning in the back of his throat, but he growled when he didn't even feel tipsy. He ordered another and chugged it as well, but when that didn't work, he stood and walked out. Turning the corner he entered the shop and walked briskly to the alcohol aisle. Grabbing some bottles of the highest volume he could he paid and then walked home, with a sickeningly familiar brown paper bag in his hand and a phantom of a foreign smile in his head; he walked faster.

He drank every bottle he bought and he didn't feel so much as a tingle.

* * *

Thor was a lifesaver, you know? Asgardian drinks, who knew it? Steve felt like he had never felt before as he drank down yet another glass of the sweet, sweet nectar, savouring every drop.

"Huh, looks like the Capsicle isn't a dry-boat after all" Tony exclaims and points a finger at him, but Steve just brushed him off. He was on a high. Bucky had come home a long time ago now and they had picked up from where they left off, soft kisses and even softer touches- surprising for both the super-soldier and the soviet assassin with a fucking metal arm, but they didn't care. They were as close as possible. The team didn't know, of course, they didn't expect Captain America and the Winter Soldier to be in a domestic gay relationship; who would? They never asked either and so it became a not so kept secret. It wasn't like they were trying to hide it anyway, they didn't want to, especially after having lived through the prejudice times that were the 20's and 30's, they were proud, just not out. So Steve felt like he was flying, then out of the blue Thor had come along and brought him some drink with the caption of; A mighty drink for a mighty leader, and before he could deny the drink he found himself taking a sip of it and the buzz that followed almost had him howling. An alcohol so strong that even he couldn't metabolise it quick enough, in fact, he didn't burn it off quickly at all, he suspected some God-like bullshit. No by this point in the evening it was like that evening so many years ago spent in the dark with Bucky and a bottle of piss wrapped in a brown paper bag. He smiled fondly at the memory and sipped his drink again.

"What's got you all giddy, Ms America?" Tony asks with a smirk, sliding over to sit by him. Steve simply blinks blearily at him, already absolutely smashed. His chest filled with love and appreciation for Bucky- who was safely away from the drunk people out here and in their room in the back somewhere.

"You know Bucky?" Steve asks dreamily, and none too quietly, and Tony has a weird look on his face.

"Yeah, I know Barnes." He says, his face looking more confused than before when Steve's brow furrows in concentration.

"I think he's like MacDonalds," Steve says, his mouth tripping over the name of a fast food joint he's only been to a couple times.

"Huh?" Tony's beyond confused, if not a bit amused at this intoxicated Steve.

"Ya'know, Dundun dun dun dun, I'm fuckin' it." Steve imitated the commercial he had heard earlier and snorts into his drink. Tony chokes on his drink and splutters, his face pale. He's never heard Steve swear before and honestly he's not sure if he likes this improvement or not. Over his shoulder he sees Clint handing Natasha a bill and Natasha smirked at him.

Down the hallway he hears a crash and a loud shout of,

"For Fucks sake, Steve".

* * *

His heart hammering in his chest, he sat up quickly. His shirt drenched in sweat and even more pouring down his face. He stood, the memory of the dead coming back to haunt him and a hand that didn't reach far enough playing over and over in his head. He walked to the bathroom and stared hard at his reflection, staring at a face which had been so many's last sight. He shut his eyes. When he opened them again he was still stood in front of the mirror and he sighed. He walked into the main room, rummaging through the cupboards for a bottle of whatever and when he found it, he sat on the sofa desolately and simply stared at the bottle in his hand. Footsteps alerted him to a presence in the hallways and he wearily raised his head to look a Bucky.

"You know that shit doesn't actually do anything, don't you?" Bucky said softly as he walked over to him, his bear feet plodding on the floor. Steve only hummed in acknowledgement. Bucky plucked the bottle from his hands and placed it on the coffee table in front of them and then sitting down next to Steve, throwing his arm across his shoulders.

"Maybe, if I drink enough, it'll finally work" Steve admits, lifting his hand up and rubbing it over his tired eyes.

"Nah, bud. It's not gonna'" Steve snorted.

"Yeah, well one can hope," He said dryly and Bucky moved his face up to look at him, kissing him lightly and saying,

"You don't need it, though." And Steve agreed.

Steve resolved to never drink alone again.


End file.
